


The Taste of Freedom

by preferablynameless



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Explicit Consent, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Love Confessions, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, She/Her Pronouns for Aziraphale (Good Omens), She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:27:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28718850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preferablynameless/pseuds/preferablynameless
Summary: There had always been that no person’s land between their friendship and the Other Arrangement. Crowley desperately craved that in-between zone, and now it seemed to be within reach. But was it truly?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 71





	The Taste of Freedom

If Crowley had been a cat instead of a snake, she’d have been purring. She felt just that content. Her head resting in Aziraphale’s lap, she relished the feeling of gentle fingers carding through her hair. The touch had coaxed her eyelids into sliding shut. A few more minutes of this, and she’d be fast asleep.

The angel was absorbed in a novel she was holding in the other hand, and Crowley had thought the movement of her fingers in Crowley’s hair to be completely absent-minded. But now, unless Crowley was judging the passage of time incorrectly, the angel hadn’t turned a page in quite a while.

Crowley forced her eyes to open, blinking up at Aziraphale. The angel was looking down at her, gaze intent and warm.

“What?” Crowley mumbled.

Aziraphale didn’t reply, not breaking eye contact. It was starting to unnerve Crowley, sending her heart into overdrive. Aziraphale smoothed her hand down the side of Crowley’s head, cupping her jaw.

Crowley’s breathing quickened, as much as she willed it not to. Blast the respiratory system. She told herself this wasn’t anything, didn’t mean anything – but the crux of the matter was that an action like this veered into the other part of their relationship. Crowley was happy to follow Aziraphale into that territory; she’d always be willing to take whatever Aziraphale threw her way, even if it hurt afterwards. Oh, how it hurt. But she treasured those moments, few and far in between, like nothing else. She cradled them in her palms and held them so close to her heart that they seared the very core of her.

Aziraphale’s hand slid lower, caressing the side of her neck and coming to rest between her collarbones. Her palm was scalding and her short, plump fingers splayed so that the tips of them reached beneath the rim of Crowley’s T-shirt.

It was a question, it had to be.

Aziraphale put it into words a moment later, too. “Is this all right?” she whispered.

Crowley nodded. “Yes.” Yes, always, anything.

Aziraphale leant down and pressed her lips to Crowley’s. The angle was awkward, but the action made Crowley’s heart jump nonetheless.

She dragged her body up into a kneeling position, the movement sluggish as if the air were heavier than it actually was. Aziraphale removed her hand from her chest, and as soon as Crowley was vaguely upright, she placed it on her waist. She relinquished the book, depositing it behind herself into the corner of the sofa, and put her freed hand on the junction of Crowley’s neck and shoulder.

Crowley kissed her hard, and an aborted whine tore its way out of her throat. Shit. She’d have to contain herself better. She had no idea if she could show how much this affected her. It had always been casual with Aziraphale. They were best friends and sometimes they were this, but those two relationships never existed in the same room. The latter always remained momentary.

They broke apart after a few seconds, panting. It was too much. Crowley barely had time to catch her breath when Aziraphale tugged her forward once more. They kissed deeply, and Aziraphale’s hand rucked up the fabric of her T-shirt, the warmth of her hand on the demon’s ribs making her yearn for more, everything, anything Aziraphale would give her. Crowley waited for the moment the angel would pull away. There was always a time limit to this, like there was one to embraces – they could only go on for so long before they became something that meant too much.

Crowley remembered tiny rooms in taverns and inns, dark and candlelit. They always only visited them the once to lower the risk of being caught. She remembered Aziraphale’s hands, roaming and stroking and demanding.

She remembered her own hands under Aziraphale’s skirts, stroking the soft flesh of her thighs. She could still hear the angel’s gasps, and she’d stored away the image of her face flushed with pleasure for use on many a lonely night. She recalled the contentment of lying together in bed afterwards, before they’d both get up and go their separate ways, agreeing to meet for drinks in a couple of days as if nothing had happened.

It had been dangerous and foolish. Even though Crowley had always made sure to check thoroughly whether anyone was watching, she could never be sure.

She would never have demanded anything more from Aziraphale. She understood that during their nights together, the frost between them would never completely melt, and the distance could never disappear. It kept both of them safe. The only problem was Crowley’s traitorous, pathetic heart.

And now here they were, two hundred years after their last encounter, once again in each other’s avid arms.

The angel’s hand slid up her back in increments until her fingers caressed the skin under the elastic band of Crowley’s bra. It wasn’t the kind that could be unfastened, so Crowley drew back to take her T-shirt off. She let Aziraphale pull her bra up over her head, and the garment landed on top of the T-shirt on the floor.

Aziraphale stroked her bare sides, pressed kisses to her neck and then between her breasts. She took one of her nipples in her mouth and rubbed the other between her fingers, and Crowley gasped and moaned, and it was allowed now – this was familiar ground.

It made sense for them to fall between the sheets together, really. Most demons and angels didn’t allow their bodies to function like the humans’ did, and kept their libido toggle safely off. But Crowley had been curious, as had been Aziraphale, and once they let themselves feel desire and passion, they weren’t able to swear it off.

Crowley had always considered sleeping with humans off limits, but six thousand years was a long time to make mistakes, especially when one was no stranger to alcohol. Moreover, there had been a few who’d known exactly who she was, and a handful of them had expressed a desire towards her. In those cases, Crowley had been unable to talk herself out of going along with it.

But otherwise, the easiest way to get satisfaction (besides her own hand) had been to go to Aziraphale. And apparently, the angel felt the same way. Which was the reason the unspoken Other Arrangement existed.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Crowley drawled between gasps. “’s unfair of you.”

Aziraphale kissed her breastbone and pulled back. Her half-lidded eyes sought out Crowley’s gaze. “Go on, then.”

Undressing Aziraphale had always been the peak of indecency. Crowley set to work on the buttons of her shirt with shaking fingers. Once they were all undone, Aziraphale pulled her arms from the sleeves. Crowley took the garment and slung it over the back of the sofa, and then Aziraphale’s mouth was on hers again. Crowley reached around her, trying to unfasten her bra, but the bloody thing wouldn’t comply. After struggling with it for a few moments, she finally managed to unclasp it and tugged it off Aziraphale’s shoulders.

Her hands felt unsteady, and her entire body was trembling. There was no reason to be anxious, she told herself. They’d done this many times before. The only thing she had to do was to watch what she said. It was always difficult, with Aziraphale’s hands on her, in her. But she’d always managed.

Aziraphale ran her hands over Crowley’s shoulders and arms. “Are you all right, darling?”

“Course I am,” Crowley replied. _Darling._ It was just sex talk, nothing else.

“If you’d rather not continue, we don’t have to,” Aziraphale said softly, intertwining their fingers.

“I want to,” Crowley said. “I’m just, well, a bit nervous, is all.”

“Oh. You don’t have to be.” She lifted her hand and caressed Crowley’s cheekbone with her thumb. “It’s just me.”

The demon nodded, closing her eyes. _Just her_.

Aziraphale was gentler now than she’d ever been, her touch less practical. Her hands lingered, caring and soothing on Crowley’s torso and arms, and she took her time exploring Crowley’s body. Crowley didn’t know how she was supposed to withstand the amount of gentleness she felt contained in Aziraphale’s touch. Or was she imagining it? The uncertainty made her feel as if she were about to shake apart.

Aziraphale pulled Crowley’s trousers down to her mid-thighs and pressed her – cuddled her – against her body as she reached down. Crowley revelled in the feeling of Aziraphale’s breasts pressed against her own chest, and she wrapped her arms around Aziraphale both to be close to her and too keep herself upright as she knelt with her thighs spread. She took gasping breaths as Aziraphale rubbed her fingers over her clit. Aziraphale’s other hand rubbed her back in small downward motions, and it made Crowley feel cared for, almost as if they were doing this out of love.

* * *

The next time she stopped by the bookshop, Aziraphale greeted her by pressing her mouth against hers. Crowley’s heart beat fast and she _wanted._ She hadn’t been prepared for this; she hadn’t had time to put up her defences. She backed Aziraphale against the door and kissed her hungrily.

It turned out Aziraphale did have a bedroom after all. They’d never gone there together before – it had been too dangerous a location. Crowley fell onto the bed and Aziraphale knelt astride her hips. She took Crowley’s wrists, raising them above her head and keeping them pinned with both of her hands. Crowley closed her eyes. Evidently, the angel still remembered just what made her tick.

She could feel Aziraphale’s gaze on her, and then the grip of those plump, deceptively delicate fingers grew firmer as Aziraphale lowered her mouth on Crowley’s, kissing her with a passion that spoke of the need to get closer, closer. Frustration and heat washed over Crowley at not being able to reach out and tug Aziraphale where she wanted her. (Though, they both knew she _would_ be able to perfectly well if she wanted.) They kissed deeply, and Aziraphale separated their lips to catch her breath. She brushed her nose against Crowley’s as she recaptured her mouth in a gentle, lingering kiss. Crowley’s heart stuttered. Aziraphale released her wrists, taking hold of her hands instead and guiding them to rest on Crowley’s chest, where she kept them clasped in hers. She smiled down at Crowley and bent down to kiss her neck.

Aziraphale caressed her torso, and then her fingers were under the waistband of Crowley’s trousers and in her underwear. Aziraphale slid two fingers into her, and Crowley rolled her hips against her hand, craving more.

Aziraphale’s fingers slid in and out slowly, and every move felt considerate and careful, too careful. Crowley needed more. She didn’t want to resort to begging this early on, but a few more seconds of this blessed teasing and she would.

“You’re so beautiful like this, do you know?” Aziraphale said softly, slipping a third finger in. “You’re really rather exquisite, darling.”

Her fingers reached in deeper, curling as she pulled them halfway out. A whine escaped Crowley’s mouth.

“Does this feel good?” Aziraphale asked quietly.

“You know it does,” she gasped. _Bastard._ She swore she could hear Aziraphale’s pleased little smile.

Aziraphale stroked her hip with her other hand. “I’m glad. Just relax and let go, love. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

It was the _love,_ echoing in Crowley’s ears as Aziraphale’s fingers continued their deep caresses, that did it.

* * *

Apparently, Aziraphale intended to renew their habit of getting each other off whenever they felt like it. It was fine with Crowley, really. It made sense. Aziraphale was an angel with a libido, and Crowley was possibly the only moral choice.

The next time it happened, it was against the background of a rainy evening, with Aziraphale leaning against the wall in her bedroom and Crowley on her knees. Aziraphale got a fair bit vocal and Crowley ignored most of what she said. She was just babbling, and it didn’t mean anything.

“Oh, my love –” she would groan with her hand in Crowley’s hair, and Crowley’s eyes stung, whether from the sharp pain in her scalp or from the choice of words.

“You’re wonderful. So good to me,” she would gasp. Of course she thought Crowley was wonderful at the moment. Crowley would keep doing this forever just to hear it, any remaining trace of self-respect be damned.

After, Aziraphale pulled her naked body against her own, holding her tight and stroking her hair.

“You were lovely, my darling,” she whispered. “You’re everything I could ever possibly want.”

Well, Crowley was happy to satisfy her needs. She really was.

“Would you like me to repay the favour?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley shook her head. The only thing she wanted was to stay right there, in Aziraphale’s arms. “Let’s just go to bed,” she said. “If you like.”

Aziraphale’s eyes were soft when she looked up at Crowley. “Of course, love.”

Why did she keep saying that? Was this the way Aziraphale saw their relationship now? They fucked on a basis which seemed to be turning regular, therefore they were each other’s love? Crowley supposed it could work like that for some people. It made sense that having sex made Aziraphale fond of Crowley, and now she was free to show it, without their superiors breathing down their necks.

Perhaps there was hope, then. Perhaps Aziraphale would grow to love her if they kept doing this, if that was the way these feelings worked for her. Perhaps Crowley’s ancient love could finally be reciprocated – with something borne of physical pleasure. It would be more than enough. It would be.

They lay down in Aziraphale’s bed, and the angel covered them with blankets before pulling Crowley close anew.

Crowley suddenly felt like she couldn’t breathe. There had always been that no person’s land between their friendship and the Other Arrangement. Crowley desperately craved that in-between zone, and now it seemed to be within reach. But was it truly?

“I’m in love with you,” she whispered, and frantically tried to calm down her heartbeat, which just made its rapid pace quicker still.

Aziraphale pressed her ever closer, her curves slotting against Crowley’s bony edges effortlessly.

“I’m in love with you too,” the angel replied softly, and Crowley could hear the smile in her voice.

Crowley’s heart jolted. Oh, she thought. This quickly? Was screwing a few times all it had taken in the end?

Aziraphale ran her hand down Crowley’s back, nuzzling her neck. “I’ve been in love with you for so long. So very long, Crowley. You’d laugh at me if you knew.”

Crowley’s heart stopped beating. Literally. She had to kick-start it. “Wait, what?”

“A couple of centuries. I only realised about two hundred years ago, but if I’m being honest, it’s been there for longer. I know it’s a bit much. It’s too soon for this sort of declaration, isn’t it?” Aziraphale chuckled nervously.

Crowley wrenched herself form her grip. “Too soon?” she repeated incredulously. “Are you kidding me?” She pushed herself up on her elbows, caging Aziraphale between her arms. “Do you know how long I’ve… six thousand sodding years, Aziraphale!”

“Six thousand?” Aziraphale asked, her eyes wide. “Golly.”

“Seriously? Seriously? I tell you this, and all you say is...” she trailed off, voice getting higher in pitch. She was breathing heavily, and her head was spinning.

Aziraphale stared up at her and then cracked up, giggling openly.

“Are you laughing at me?” Crowley demanded, voice weak.

“Sorry, dear,” Aziraphale said, not looking sorry at all. “Come here, will you?”

Crowley slumped on top of Aziraphale and let the angel wrap her arms around her. Her breathing slowed, and her heartbeat calmed down, and then she felt as if she were about to cry. Brilliant.

“Fuck, Aziraphale,” she said, only a touch hysterically. “You love me.”

“Of course I do,” Aziraphale said, her voice soothing and very much not helping Crowley keep tears at bay. She buried her face in Aziraphale’s neck. “Oh, my love,” the angel mumbled, which, again, not helping.

* * *

The next time, it was different. The next time, Crowley believed her. (Though, “love” never quite stopped being her weak spot.)

**Author's Note:**

> Edit (February 2021): Thanks for the kind comments! I deleted my replies because they were posted on anonymous mode from another account, and I didn't want to de-anon that account after I migrated the work here.


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